


how i follow your fire

by inkjoy



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, M/M, Peter POV, Peter has a lot of emotions and he doesn't want to deal with any of them, i guess, post Season 1 finale, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21533065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkjoy/pseuds/inkjoy
Summary: Peter justifies checking the Hyperion Times and skimming the obituaries as a simple curiosity but there’s only a matter of time before that excuse runs out. And then one day he checks and finds the front page stating the electoral candidate Pilot Pereyra has gone missing, and is presumed dead, and detectives Alessandra Strong and Juno Steel are suspected of the same.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98





	how i follow your fire

_I love the piece of the earth you are._  
_because in all the planetary prairies_  
_I do not have another star. You repeat_  
_the multiplication of the universe_

_Your wide eyes are the light I have_  
_of the vanquished constellations,_  
_your skin pulses like the roads_  
_the meteor follows in the rain._

_Of so much moon were your hips to me,_  
_of all the sun in your deep mouth and its delights,_  
_of so much burning sun, like honey in the shade,_

_your heart burnt by long red rays,_  
_and this is how I follow your fire—kissing you,_  
_small and planetary, dove and geography._

\- Pablo Neruda Sonnet XVI

xxx

For one night, there was a lady, and a hotel room, and the press of two bodies, and soft whispered confessions. In the morning, only the hotel room remained.

Peter would like to say that he immediately cut his losses and caught the first ship out of Mars and went on to bigger and brighter things. He’d like to say that he forgot all about Juno Steel and the night they spent together. He’d like to say a lot of things. Except it would be a lie.

The truth was that he spent three days in that hotel room, clinging to the hope that Juno might change his mind and come back, even when Peter’s mind knew the truth.

After three days, he swallowed his pride and finally accepted that Juno wasn’t going to walk in through the door. No, he had probably already thrown himself back into his detective work and was doing his best to forget all about the trouble Peter had dragged him into.

He couldn’t exactly blame him. The first time they had a case together Peter stole from him; the second he got them kidnapped, tortured and Juno lost his eye. It was no wonder Juno took off without a word the second he could.

Still, it was frankly embarrassing that Peter had wasted as long as he did, indulging in his own hopes and sorrows. He packed up his belongings, bought the first ticket he could get his hands on and decided to push all his memories of Juno deep into tightly closed boxes in his mind and focus on his career as a thief.

This lasted approximately two weeks.

He completed his latest heist – a rush job, really – having stolen the broach of a very wealthy politician on Venus and had taken a moment to relax. In a fit of sentimentality, the gleam of diamonds reminded him of the way the light reflected off Juno’s eyes in the moments before their kiss.

His traitorous thoughts conjured up images of deceptively soft curls, strong shoulders, and a heart too tender for the city he protected. And when he thought of him, more bruises than smiles and a penchant for throwing himself in the line of fire every time the opportunity arose, he also thought about just how likely it was that one time Juno wouldn’t be so lucky, he might not make some miraculous escape, and Peter might never even know.

There was no telling how many incidents the detective had already tripped into, and how many more he’d gone out and found. Missing an eye Juno was not in top form and can no longer make a single lucky shot to save himself from whatever criminal he was facing down day by day. And in his line of work, a missed shot could mean a death sentence.

Before he even knew it, he was bringing up the Hyperion Times on his comms. A jittery feeling in his chest as he first skimmed the obituaries for a singular name, heart jolting in fear each time he read any names with even the slightest similarity. _Juke, Luna, Jurin, Runoe._ When he reached the end, he released the breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding. Juno’s name had not appeared.

Next, he skimmed the top stories and flicked through the rest of the paper for any mention of a surly detective but there were none. He told himself that no news was good news yet the niggling image of Juno dying played over and over until he picture was so solid in his mind he’d half convinced himself it had happened.

Without giving himself a chance to question his own actions, a quick search on his comms found a number and he was dialling it in the next moment.

“Hello, Mistah Steel’s Detective Agency. This is _Riiiita!”_ chirped a familiar boisterous voice.

It felt good to hear her speak and also a bit like poking a fresh bruise. “Hello Rita,” he said, deliberately changing the tenor of his voice, “Is Mr. Steel available?”

He held his breath, at once sure certain he was alive and convinced that he had died.

“Oh yeah, he’s in his office. Do you want me to take a message?” Rita asked.

Peter’s breath shuddered in his chest and he felt embarrassed for the second time in as many weeks, and once more thanks to Juno Steel. The feeling was overshadowed, however; by the sheer relief that he was still alive and presumably well.

He cleared his throat to remove the lump from it and responded, “No thank you, that will be all.” He hung up before he could change his mind and ask to hear the rough gravel of the detective’s voice in his ear just once more.

From then on, he made a habit of checking the news every few days or weeks. Even exhausted from long nights spent planning and researching for heists, he still found a few minutes to skim the Hyperion Times for any mention of the detective.

Once, about six months after the last time he had seen Mars, he spotted a little article on page 7. It mentioned a socialite’s narrow escape from death, an exploding cat, and the quick thinking of one detective Steel that had ensured everyone had survived – bar the unlucky cat, of course. It sounded just like the kind of mess Juno excelled in, and despite everything Peter felt a tiny smile tug at his lips that was smothered just as fast.

Not long he found himself on Mars to sell one of his recently acquired objects. Despite his protests the buyer had refused to meet anywhere else. Grudgingly, he’d gone. When the painting had been handed over, and creds exchanged, he’d planned to leave immediately. But on his way to his ride, he’d passed a florist and remembered tomorrow’s date.

The next day he’d seen Juno, still wearing the same old coat Peter could remember being soft with age under his fingers, and followed him to Rita’s apartment. He’d left the flowers with her; and walked away as calmly as he could. Peter didn’t know what he wanted them to mean; a bitter reminder or a plea for Juno to change his mind, perhaps? Either way, he waited around the corner for the next few minutes but if Juno realised what they meant, he never came after him.

Cursing his own traitorous heart, he’d left Mars again that night.

After that Juno’s name popped up again a few more times. A death at Polaris Park, some kind of mess about a stolen map and the surprising knowledge that he was apparently playing bodyguard to mayoral candidate Ramses O’Flaherty. That was more shocking than anything else; Juno wasn’t exactly the kind of lady to be tied down to one person, even for work. Peter found himself reading up on O’Flaherty and saw hints of what must have drawn Juno in. A strong desire to help Hyperion and a moral outrage at the state it was currently in.

In the days leading up the election, Peter was busy pulling off a heist. It involved pretending to be utterly against all forms of technology and had thus had to leave his comms behind on the mission. He had managed to pull it off, despite a minor slip-up where he spoke the wrong dialect of Lerionan while trying to charm a foreign diplomat, but otherwise went off without a hitch. Prize in hand, he’d left the premises and finally found the time to retrieve his comms, falling into the well-practiced habit of finding the most recent Hyperion Times.

He didn’t have to look far. The election had happened only hours ago and for a second Peter felt a warmth in his chest that Juno had succeeded in getting the candidate he wanted elected, and the tiny hope that with a better hand to guide it, Juno might consider leaving Mars once and awhile. All of that was silly wishful thinking, and Peter would have forced the thoughts far back into his mind, buried under a pile of similar thoughts had his eyes not slid down the page and get caught.

Hands shaking, he scoured the article, hoping that he had just read it wrong in his lazy skim of the page. He took in the important details dominating most of the front page: Ramses O’Flaherty has been elected mayor. The other candidate and previous mayor, Pilot Pereyra, had not been seen in several days and was missing, presumed dead. And then in one throw-away line…

_Mayor O’Flaherty also expressed grief that private detectives Alessandra Strong and Juno Steel, who had been searching for former-mayor Pereyra, have also gone missing. O’Flaherty did not seem hopeful for their return._

There was no other mention of Juno. Peter knew because he scoured the article again and again, searching for something – anything – more. There was nothing except the stone-cold fact that Juno Steel was missing and might be dead.

His chest tightened, and his breaths were quick and shaky. He didn’t remember sitting down but was on the ground, one hand around his comms and the other tugging at his hair. There was no way that it was happening, but it was, and it had.

The article was from several days ago. He checks for any recent news and finds that O’Flaherty had wasted no time in enacting his plan for a better future, but even to his distressed mind not everything added up. There seemed to be talk of Oldtown being closed off from the public, a lack of communications, an uncertainty in the air.

He remembered Juno’s secretary and wondered how she was fairing amongst all of the chaos. At the very least if anyone was going to know where Juno was, or if he was even _alive_ , it would be her.

He dialled, the number still saved in his phone for reasons he hadn’t stopped to consider at the time. It rung out for a minute and every second of waiting felt like an eternity.

“Hello?” Rita’s voice filled the air, “Mistah Steel is that you?” The cheerful peppiness from last time was gone, replaced with a fear and desperation that mirrored the feelings in his chest.

“I’m afraid not,” he said as gently as he could.

There was a muffled sound over the line that might have been a poorly disguised sob, but the next time she spoke there was a hint of the old Rita, “My mistake, it’s been a right mess around here. Mistah Steel’s not here right now, but I’m sure he’ll be back any day now. Do you want me to take a message?”

Peter wondered how exactly Juno found someone as unrelentingly optimistic as he was pessimistic, and how two people like that even become friends. He bet it was a story that he would like to hear. He wondered if Juno was still around to tell it.

For a moment, Peter considered giving her a message. But anything he might want to say felt too personal, too intimate, to be said through a proxy.

“No, that’s okay. I just saw the news, and I was wondering if you had heard anything about Juno?”

If Rita was curious as to why a stranger wanted this information, she didn’t show it. “I ain’t heard from Mistah Steel in days. He just ran off without telling me nothing! I’m sure he’ll turn up again soon though, he always comes back,” she said the last part quieter, and Peter was unsure whether it was meant for his ears.

He could hang up now, he had asked what he needed to, although not gotten the answers he wanted. He thought about how much Juno cared about this woman, and about Ramses O’Flahrety’s new goals that didn’t seem to include all the facts and he could not bring himself to hang up without one more thing.

“Rita,” he said, “I’m afraid I’m not planet-side so I can’t say for sure, but something strange seems to be going on in Oldtown. I think you should think about going somewhere safe for the next few days.” Hyperion City seemed too unpredictable at the moment, too volatile whilst in the midst of change.

“What?” she cried, “I can’t leave the office, what if the boss calls and he needs me?”

“You’ve still got your comms, though I think shutting it off and making yourself untraceable could be the best option here. Juno would hate it if when he comes back he finds you’ve put yourself in harms way for him.” Peter told her.

Rita hems and haws until eventually she groans, “He _would_ hate that wouldn’t he? I guess I could go somewhere for just a little while. Just until Mistah Steel comes back and then I’ll give him a good talking to for leaving me behind, I swear I ain’t never met a lady more stubborn to do things himself and – hey wait, you never told me your name.”

“No, I didn’t,” he says wryly, “I’m… a friend, of sorts. An old ally, perhaps. Someone who wants Juno to come back safe, at least.”

“That sounds real confusing but okay. You take care of yourself too Mistah No-Name. The boss doesn’t have too many people who care about him, so he’ll be real sad if anything happens to you, I bet.”

“Oh,” Peter says, startled, “that’s not –“

“I’m gonna go now, but it’s okay to be worried about Mistah Steel, you know. I’m real worried, too. But he’ll be back, just you wait. Bye-bye now.” She hung up before he could even think to reply.

The call hadn’t been what he had been hoping for, and yet he felt the pain in his heart lighten just a little anyway. The strong headed way of thinking, charging forward and speaking honestly without a filter or tricks was probably something Juno appreciated. Peter found himself appreciating it too.

It would be no good to continue to dwell on what he couldn’t change. Even if every second that Juno remained missing sends spikes of fear into his chest, even when he wanted nothing more than to go back to Mars and search for him himself, he couldn’t. He was not a detective after all, he was a thief.

And the jewels from his latest heist still glittered on the nightstand where he had left them. As much as he was like to sell them, chip away a little more at the debt constantly bearing down on him, that was not what they ended up being for. The forbidden emerald of Countess Chaquella was a highly renowned piece, labelled as near-impossible to steal.

And he sent it away without getting a dime in return.

A day or so after his call with Rita a notice to those who knew where to look, and despite his inner turmoil, a spark ignited in him at its contents.

The emerald was now his proof that he was a thief, and an excellent one at that. That was why such a coveted piece would be the perfect addition to his resume for the infamous crime duo of Buddy and Vespa. A pair so renowned across the galaxy, even Peter followed their career with stars in his eyes.

That, along with a reference, would hopefully be enough to secure his spot in the team. He had made Juno his reference and then erased it, and then added it again. It was a risk, a gamble to place all of his bets on one person and yet he did it anyway despite knowing it could backfire.

After all, what good is he if the one and only person he claims can back-up his status as a thief is his missing ex-lover?

But then he thought of Rita, and the confidence in her voice when she stated that Juno would be back. And he thought of Juno, who would never be the type to go down quietly, as a singular sentence in a news article. Juno would return, no doubt with a blaster in his hand and a witty remark on his lips. Maybe Peter would even get to see it.

That didn’t stop him from following the news religiously, scouring the articles and the obituary with more zeal than before. Hoping for a glimpse of one name in particular, but it never came up. Peter wasn’t sure whether he was disappointed or relieved.

There was mention of chaos in the recently christened Newtown of mind-controlling chips, people missing memories, and a million new citizens that were not there before. There were whispers of a cover-up and even quieter murmurs that the chips had been deactivated by a mysterious group or individual.

He thought of Rita, a genius with technology, and Juno, always so ready to try and save the day, and although no one ever mentioned either of them, Peter knew.

He stopped checking the news. Mostly because there were outfits to pack, a new alias to forge, and a ship to board when he got the news of his acceptance in the heist crew. There was Buddy Aurinko and Vespa Ai. There was Jet Sikuliaq, another hero of his and the gleaming hood of the Ruby7.

Then there was an admission that they were picking up two other recruits. When Buddy told him their names he felt relief that he was right and that Juno was okay; embarrassment and bitterness over the last time he and Juno had seen each other – not so fresh a wound but still painful to touch; he felt anxiety over their reunion; and a mix of anger and despair over why _now?_ Why would Juno pack and up leave now when he didn’t when Peter had asked. What had happened in those days of Juno’s disappearance?

And then he shoved all of those emotions away, buried them under a familiar smirk and a calculated lounge and then –

“Hello, Juno. It’s been awhile.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is, I just had a lot of thoughts on what Peter was doing in all that time we didn't see him. Watch Vibert literally prove all of this not canon compliant later in the season, just you wait. 
> 
> And okay I know that Juno and Alessandra weren't in the news most likely, but let me have this please.
> 
> and if anyone was wondering I used what seems to be the less popular English translation of the poem bc I skimmed the Spanish version and this seemed more accurate and more what I wanted.


End file.
